


i'll try & keep my head nice & quiet for you

by reindeerjumper



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: “You could always spend the night at my flat,” he said, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them.





	i'll try & keep my head nice & quiet for you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lindmea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindmea/gifts).



> so glad to see more traffic in the fandom since the BBC series aired! welcome to everyone & i hope you enjoy this! 
> 
> also, i have no idea logistically how cormoran's flat/office works (and i haven't read the books in a while), so just...roll...with it?

“You could always spend the night at my flat,” he said, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Robin looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, the tissue in her hands twisted beyond recognition and an oddly attractive smudge of mascara under each of her eyes. She gulped, trying to catch her breath from the crying jag that had erupted out of nowhere only moments before.

“Oh, god, Corm, I couldn’t put you out like that. I’ll just...oh, I don’t know what I’ll do.” She let out a shaky sob again, bringing the tissue up to her eyes and curling in on herself.

Cormoran felt warm and uncomfortable and in desperate need of a drink. He hadn’t really anticipated the day going to complete shit--it had started out innocently enough, with him and Robin running surveillance on a suspect, the two of them then grabbing lunch at the pub up the street. Mid-meal, Robin received a phone call that she took outside, and when she returned, she was clearly fighting back tears.

As always, Matthew had taken her perfectly pleasant mood and turned it on its head. Something upset him, and instead of talking it out like a rational adult, he came at Robin half-cocked and accusatory. As Robin choked this all out to Cormoran over her sandwich, Cormoran had begun to feel protective towards Robin--something that happened with her far more than it did with anyone else.

“No, you wouldn’t be putting me out. I-I hate seeing you like this, is all,” he said awkwardly, spinning the pint glass in his fingers by the base. “I just feel like going back home isn’t the best idea, but I’m not exactly a relationship expert, either.”

Robin looked up at him, and Cormoran felt the odd sensation of butterflies in his gut. She gave him a small, hesitant smile before saying, “Are you absolutely positive?”

“Robin, I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t positive.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, a slight hiccup escaping between her lips. “Mind if we pop back to our-- _ my _ \--flat so I can grab some things?”

Cormoran hesitated before reaching across the tabletop and quickly grabbing her hand. “Whatever you need.”

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Cormoran and Robin were crossing the threshold to his flat. Robin had a duffel full of clothes, and Cormoran carried two styrofoam cups of tea. Robin held the duffel in front of her with both hands, her shoulders deflated and the skin around her nose still red from the crying she had done earlier.

Awkwardly, Cormoran held one of the cups out to her, which she took with a grateful smile. “You can have the bed,” he said, gesturing towards the makeshift bedroom with his head. Robin blushed high on the apples of her cheeks as she bit her lower lip.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Really, I’m fine with the sofa.”

Cormoran looked into the office at the ratty sofa with its penchant for farting. The idea of sleeping on it was completely unappealing, even to him (despite the number of times he’d fallen asleep on it while watching footy). He shook his head with a smirk.

“There’s no way I could allow that. Sheets are clean--just changed them last night.”

“Thanks again, Cormoran,” she said. “I’ll just go drop this in there…” Her voice trailed off as she turned towards the bedroom door, granting Cormoran the tiniest hint of a smile as she peeked at him over her shoulder. 

As Robin disappeared into his bedroom, Cormoran shrugged his overcoat off and hung it on the hook by the door. He let out a long, steadying breath, trying to calm the thrumming of his heart in his chest at the thought of Robin sleeping in his bed. He silently congratulated himself on actually changing the sheets, and scanned the flat with a certain level of pride at how neat it was compared to its usual disarray. 

“I’m going to order takeaway. Any preference?” he called out as he made his way into the kitchen.

“Whatever you want, honestly,” came Robin’s muffled reply. 

“Pizza it is.” Cormoran picked up his mobile and called the number to the pizza shop up the street, placing an order for a medium pie. Just as he was hanging up with the phone, he heard movement behind him. 

“All set?” he heard Robin say. 

“Yeah,” he replied, but his voice caught in his throat as he turned around. Robin stood in his kitchen wearing an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of leggings in bare feet and a loose ponytail. She looked soft and warm and like she’d fit perfectly in his arms. He swallowed thickly, trying to dislodge the dryness in his throat.

“Wonderful. How much do I owe you?”

Unbidden, Cormoran rolled his eyes. “Stop,” he said simply. He gently pushed his way past Robin to get to the cabinet that held his glassware. He pulled two tumblers down from the shelf and then bent over to rummage around in the cabinet that held his liquor. After several moments, he emerged victorious with a cheap bottle of whiskey in his hand. He held it up with a faint, “Ah-ha,” before holding the bottle out towards her. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

“What about the tea you got us?”

“Fuck the tea, this is better.”

Pouring two fingers in each glass and mixing in just a splash of Coke, he offered the glass to Robin. Shyly, she took it out of his hand with a smile. “Thanks,” she said, lifting it to her lips as she looked at him over the rim before dipping her gaze down as she took a sip. Cormoran nodded his approval before unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling the sleeves up. Without making conversation, he led the way into the office and sat down onto the couch with a huff. 

By the time the pizza came, he and Robin had situated themselves on either end of the sofa, watching reruns of  _ EastEnders _ . They sat with pizza slices balanced on paper plates situated on their laps, with the occasional clink of ice from their glasses as they sipped on their whiskey and Cokes. Cormoran kept finding himself glancing in her direction, allowing himself the indulgence of gazing on her profile. She was absorbed in the show--or probably her own thoughts--as she munched on the slice of pizza, pulling slices of pepperoni off the top with her thumb and forefinger. 

After what felt like the umpteenth episode, Robin stretched her arms up over her head and let out a yawn that made Cormoran smile. She ran both hands over her face, tracing her eyebrows with her fingertips and dragging them down her cheeks to rest on her chin. She looked over to where he sat and gave him a sad smile.

“I think I’m going to turn in. Are you absolutely  _ sure _ you don’t want the bed?”

“Positive. Sleep well, Robin. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

With baited breath, Cormoran watched as Robin’s hand slowly crossed over the couch cushions and gently grabbed his, giving it a squeeze. Her hand didn’t even cover the circumference of his, and for some reason that made his lips quirk up. She patted the top of his hand as she stood up, and then looked down at him and said, “Thanks again.”

“My pleasure.”

Cormoran watched a smile bloom across her face before she turned towards the bedroom and padded across the floor. The door shut behind her with a click, and Strike felt the tension bleed from his body. He needed a cigarette, and he needed it badly. He twisted his body around and shoved the window behind him up. Placing the cigarette between his lips, he reveled in the cool breeze that rolled in through the window and soothed his nerves.

About five drags in, Cormoran relaxed. He leaned back on the couch, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt and removing his prosthesis. He lay there, one arm above his head and the other contemplatively holding the cigarette in front of his face. He watched the ash burn down, the tip glowing in the darkness of the room, as he tried to shove down all of the unfamiliar, warm feelings that Robin stirred in him.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom opened, and he bolted upright. Robin stood at the threshold, her arms protectively wrapped around her. She looked uncomfortable, her one foot worrying at the other as she gnawed on her lower lip.

“Everything alright?” he said, his voice gruff as she smashed the cigarette into the nearby ashtray.

“Um, well…” She started to speak, then trailed off.

“Robin, what’s wrong?” he said, shifting his body around to face her straight on.

“I just...I don’t really want to be alone, you know? I can’t sleep because I just keep thinking of all of these things and I hate the idea of you sleeping out here when I’m the one infringing on your space and to be entirely honest, I’m not used to sleeping by myself.” She dropped her eyes to the floor, wrapping her arms around her more tightly. “Are you  _ sure _ you don’t want the bed?”

Cormoran looked at her across the darkened room. The fifteen minutes he had spent laying on the couch were already wreaking havoc on his lower back, and the idea of his full-sized mattress was far more appealing than the couch. He ran a hand across the back of his head before looking back up at Robin. 

“No, you keep it,” he said quietly, giving her a reassuring smile. 

Robin gave him a quick nod, looking just past him at the window behind him. She dropped her hands to her sides and said, “Would you--I mean, would it be weird, if…” She let out a huff. “I hate asking this of you, since you’ve already gone above and beyond, but would you just lay down with me? Until I fall asleep?”

Without meaning to, Cormoran raised his eyebrows at her in disbelief. 

“Uh, I mean, if you really wanted me to, I don’t see why not,” he said. His heart was now threatening to beat out of his chest, and his palms were sweating. His palms hadn’t sweat since he was fourteen. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll just head back in, let you get situated…” 

Cormoran nodded as he reached for his prosthesis, giving her a small wave with his free hand as the breath in his lungs threatened to leave. 

_ How the fuck did this happen?  _

With a stride that looked more purposeful than it felt, Cormoran crossed the room from the couch to the door and then tentatively knocked. Robin’s voice on the other side softly invited him in, and Cormoran turned the knob and pushed it open. Robin had his bedside lamp lit, and she was sitting on the mattress with her knees pulled up to her chest, his old, worn comforter pulled up to her chin. She gave him a warm smile before patting the space next to her. 

Awkwardly, Cormoran returned the smile and made his way over to the bed. He sat on the edge and looked back at her over his shoulder. “Is it alright if I remove this thing?” he said, pointing down to his lower leg. 

“Of course,” Robin replied, her eyes growing wide at the idea that he thought she’d find it offensive.

“Thanks. Been killing me all afternoon.” Trying to hide the flush that was creeping up the back of his neck, Cormoran bent forward and untied the lace of his shoe. He removed it before moving to the prosthetic leg, quickly unhooking it and placing it against the nightstand. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips once his leg was free from its constraints. Without much thought, he began to rub his palm over the tender spot that had rubbed against the plastic of the prosthesis all day. It ached, and the ministrations he was lavishing upon it were doing little to help ward off the pain.

“Does it hurt like that all the time?” Robin’s voice cut across the silence, snapping Cormoran out of his thoughts.

“I hate to sound like I’m whining, but yes,” he replied, smirking at her. “It’s a pain in the arse, if you want me to be honest.” They both laughed at that, Robin’s body relaxing as she grinned at him from her spot on the bed. “Come on now, we both need to get some sleep,” he continued, swinging his legs up onto the bed and settling down next to her. He hadn’t even chanced sliding under the covers with her.

Robin slid down, keeping the comforter up to her chin, and Cormoran reached his arm over to click off the bedside light. They both lay there, flat on their back and staring at the ceiling in silence for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly, Robin spoke up.

“Thank you again,” she whispered.

Cormoran turned his head and looked at her. “Stop thanking me, Robin. You would’ve done the same for me.”

At this, Robin gave just a small nod of agreement before taking one of her hands out from underneath the covers and grabbing Cormoran’s hand that lay between them. She cuffed her fingers around the back of his hand, her fingertips pressing into his palm. He cursed the moistness that still lingered there. 

“Good night, Cormoran.”

“Night, Robin.”

It wasn’t long before Robin’s breathing evened out. Strike didn’t notice, though, because he had slipped into sleep just moments before her.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Cormoran found himself blinking blearily in the sunlight that was bleeding through the window. Something was different, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. He was warm, despite being on top of the covers ( _ Did I get drunk last night?) _ , and something was tickling the underside of his chin. He went to move, but stopped when he realized the warm weight of someone pressed up to his side. Daring a glance down, his gaze was met with a tangle of spun gold, glinting in the morning sun.

Robin was curled up against his side, her arm draped across his torso and her head pillowed on his chest. He could feel her knees digging into his thigh, and instead of being annoyed, he found himself liking it. In his sleep, Cormoran had somehow managed to curl a protective arm around her back, pulling her in close to him and settling his hand on her hip. She was still tucked underneath the covers, the thin layer of fabric acting as a barrier between their bodies. Her breath fell in even, relaxed beats, and he couldn’t help but squeeze her just a little tighter to him.

She stirred suddenly, raising her head to look at him through a few strands of her hair with squinted eyes. 

“Mornin’,” she said, her sweet voice graveled with sleep. 

“Good morning,” he replied, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“What’s for breakfast?”

For as much of a wanker as Matthew was, just this once, Cormoran wanted to thank him.  


End file.
